Inheritance: Alternate World- BRISINGR
by Deezmartini
Summary: The sequel to the Inheritance Alternate World duology, Brisingr continues the trend of setting the familiar Inheritance cycle into the complex and violent world of Dark Fantasy. Eragon meets his destiny while fighting in the Elven Army, Morzan and Murtagh find themselves secretly assisting him. Nasuada is pregnant with Murtagh's child, while Arya hides a similar secret. War looms.
1. Chapter 1

BRISINGR- Chapter 0: Awakening

"The gods have blessed our efforts."

Priest Alaric brought a heavy hand to his brow. He was of a pious sort, a man who prayed every day and thanked the gods for the fruits of his labor. In his youth he had been a warrior of the gods, but now he turned his vigor into something less martial. While his body was still large, age had turned corded muscle into fat, and his tall stature was slouched and bent. Graying blonde hair fell to his ears, and dusky green eyes looked down at the body below him. He was in a candlelit chamber, several lower-ranking priests beside him and then around, forming a circle of sorts around the freshly killed body.

"Lady Lorana has given us the responsibility to keep Feinster safe from the rebels. You have all heard the news- Orrin has begun his attack. Soon, the screams of innocents will fill the air, and blood will overflow our sewers. Avela will be here to save us, but he cannot do it alone. Our own army is well trained but small, a measly seven-thousand."

Alaric stepped forward, approaching the body. He knelt down and rubbed the head of the young man. Even in death, Tarim shared many of Alaric's features.

"My son… He will become the greatest warrior the realm has ever seen. Tarim is human no longer, for he has joined the realm of the gods."

Even now, Alaric could feel them watching- _Spirits. _A newly killed body was a prized possession among them. But they knew not to attempt to take Tarim's. There was another among them, a Spirit much greater than the rest. Unlike other spirits, it was not a combination of souls that acted as a single entity, but one being.

"Tagallis, take my son Tarim as your own. Become a warrior of light, a destroyer of darkness. Protect your servants from Orrin and his pagan armies. _Save us__." _

Tarim's body jerked upwards, his chest rising high while his neck swung loosely on broad shoulders. Eyes shot open, glowing with red malevolence and hatred. The newly created Shade crawled forward, before turning his head around to regard Alaric. Tarim's formally blonde hair slowly turned white, growing longer and longer until it touched the stone floor.

"The battle will begin shortly." The Shade rasped, lifting itself up to its full height.

"Your vaunted Rider has arrived." It added with a nod to the ceiling. It was true- Alaric could sense the massive magical energy of Avela and his Dragon.

_Perhaps . . . Perhaps we will defeat Orrin, and end his rebellion. _

"Tagallis, Lord Savior, allow us to venerate you until the time of battle arrives." Alaric descended to his knees. The face of his former son nodded curtly, his white locks shifting slightly in the still air.

(Line break)

LADY LORANA stood atop of the high and white battlements of Feinster. A High Surdan city, it shared the more foreign features of the faraway sand-states of the Beyonders with the more conventional aspects of Western Alagaesia. Most of the people too, were results of this mix. They bore sandy blonde hair and sharp features, but many had a tanned or even an earthy brown color to their skin, contrasting with bright blue eyes. She herself however was pale, dark brown hair reaching the tip of her small nose, her full lips curved in a smile as she regarded Avela Massieo and his dragon, Absolearet.

"Lady Lorana, I presume." Avela flashed her a white smile from atop the dark golden dragon. His kinky brown hair waved in the wind, while tanned fingers gripped a ribbed saddle. Absolearet nodded an reptilian head, spreading his large and red-colored wings while bird-like talons clung to the wall below him.

"I remember your great grandfather, Orantas . . . . A good man." Absolearet grumbled. Lady Lorana had to keep from showing her fear. She had never been this close to an _actual _dragon, and with every word Absolearet's powerful breath parted the hairs on her forehead. She could only imagine what it would be like to suffer under the torrent of his flames.

"Ah, Orantas! A jovial man." Avela's smile grew wider.

"A drunk man. But good." Absolearet offered. Avela jumped from Absolearet's saddle, the thin blade he carried shorter than his long legs as it clicked against the steel mouth of his high boots.

"I saw Orrin's forces as we arrived." Avela said with a more sober tone. Absolearet walked among the thick wall of the battlement, reminding Lorana of a bat as the talons of his wings scraped on the stone with every movement. Soldiers readily moved out of the dragon's way, and then would gawk after him as he sauntered ahead.

"And? What is their strength?" Lorana leaned forward. She did not want her men hearing how futile this battle would be.

"Easily over three hundred thousand. _Impori _witches and forestmen have joined their ranks. This will be a battle hard won." Avela whispered. Lorana smiled weakly, moving away from Avela and taking his hand, leading him down the wall's length, while his dragon vanished behind the curve of it.

"The battle _can_ be won, can't it?"

"I have faced similar odds. And you are a powerful magic-user, yourself. You have elite troops who are among the best in the land . . . but young conscripts and old men make up the bulk of your forces."

Lorana knew that better than anyone. Feinster had faced peace for too long, safe from Far-Southern raiders behind her large walls. Now that battle was finally coming, she loathed to force un-prepared men to take up arms. But she had little choice in the matter. She toyed with the idea of letting Orrin simply occupy the city, but by doing so she would give him ample opportunity to consolidate his power, and then march to the homelands.

That was something she could not allow.

"My priests have summoned a Shade." Lorana said almost matter-of-factly. Avela's eyes narrowed, but he simply looked away and gave her a thin smile.

"I see. Absolearet had sensed something . . . foul."

"Alaric has told his priests and will tell the people that the Shade is a physical manifestation of our god." Lorana could feel herself grow colder as she spoke. It was a foul thing, but it was necessary.

Avela stopped and turned to face the tall pillars that jutted from the high walls. Wide and thick, a man could wrap his arms around one and his fingers would not touch. Avela himself settled for simply placing his palm on the warm stone, his handsome face accented by a setting sun.

"Who was the body?" His brown eyes shifted to meet her green colored ones.

"Alaric's son." Lady Lorana spoke truthfully; there was no lessening the blow.

"A foul death . . . . to be turned into a Shade . . ." Avela rested his head on the pillar, a cynical grin on his face.

"The battle has not even begun, and we have already lost a life."

"But that loss will result in the salvation of thousands more. Tarim will be a hero." Lorana reasoned with Avela as much as she reasoned with herself.

"Perhaps. Come, we must prepare. Tarim's sacrifice will not be in vain." Avela said, while Absolearet was seen rising high above the city, his wide and bat-like wings setting to the wind like engorged sails, while a long tail trailed swiftly after his thin body.

"A sight to inspire the men." Lorana smiled.

"And to strike fear into Orrin's ranks. I doubt they have a dragon on their side."

Avela's grin set Lorana's heart at ease. It was possible- a slight chance, but possible- that she would survive this battle, and defend the realm from the usurper.


	2. Fire in the Sky: Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: FIRE IN THE SKY

Lorgainne walked through a silent forest. In his hands, he held a drooping rope that was tied to a tired and haggard horse that carried and even more _tired _and _haggard_ Katrina. His eyes looked ahead and saw a bright green scene: plants and trees rustling with activity as a soft breeze parted them like the loving hands of a mother. Butterflies danced from wild flowers, while bees lazily flew, legs carrying copious loads of pollen.

"We're almost near the border of Ellesmera." Lorgainne leaned his head back towards Katrina. She didn't respond to him, as had become her habit once they had begun to run out of food. Before, Lorgainne's pet companions had been able to scavenge meager amounts of food, but the closer they had come to Ellesmera, the fewer animals they came across.

_I can sense it now, too. A darkness in the air. A whisper of darkness on the lips of every passing gust, a hiss in every drop of rain. A devil in every step. _

The trees towered over them, easily dwarfing the large sentinels of the North. They were of brown oak, thick and powerful. Before, such things would have made him feel safe, but the eerie silence filled Lorgainne with unrest.

That, and the fact they were being watched.

Lorgainne had noticed it long ago- a shadow behind a trunk, an almost silent step that shadowed theirs. The Laen Elves were nearly impossible to see. But Lorgainne's magic, tuned in time with his trained senses caught their faint traces. He wondered what they were waiting for. He had made sure to wear the colors of the Varden, so that he was not killed on sight. The last thing he or Katrina needed was an arrow through the throat. Almost suddenly, Lorgainne found himself before a large wall that rivaled the trees he had passed before. He stepped forward, tugging his horse along.

"Come no closer, human." A voice called from the battlements.

"What is your business?" It asked. Lorgainne dropped his leading rope and knelt.

"My name is Lorgainne Pike, of House Pike. I bring you Katrina Magebane, wife of Roran, brother of Eragon."

(Linebreak)

Eragon pressed himself into Saphira's back as a torrent of fire passed over him. The slight lick of flame was retarded by protective magics, but Eragon did not know how long they would last.

"_You will need to do better, Rider!"_ Glaedr's voice was deeper than thunder and sharper than the strike of lighting. Saphira rolled to the lift of the wind, trails of smoke following the tips of her wings.

_Are you alright? _ Eragon asked.

_Yes._ _This is harder than I thought. _

Saphira whirled in the skies as Eragon pressed his thighs closer on the saddle that was at the edge of her neck. Holding his sword with two hands, Saphira descended on Glaedr below. Oromis looked up at them, sword still sheathed.

"_Is this the full extent of your power?!" _ Oromis' voice was overshadowed by a plume of fire that erupted from the Master Rider's palm.

"_Skolojur afe vatni!" _ A veil of water sputtered to life before Eragon and Saphira, shielding them from the flames.

_How did he do that? He uttered no spell. _Saphira swept herself downwards and flew underneath Glaedr as the massive dragon reared.

_Oromis has an unorthodox way of fighting._ _He must've transported the flames of Glaedr into his illusion world, and then summoned them back into reality when he decided to attack. _Glaedr's shadow darkened their vision, golden wings as big as fields sending a torrent of wind to them. Saphira didn't attempt to fight the gusts, allowing herself to fall to be pushed towards the ground.

_Can you do the same thing? Has Oromis taught you? _

Eragon thought for a moment while Glaedr's roars deafened his ears.

_He has. But I cannot use the ability on such a large scale. And even then, I need time to prepare the spell. _

_I will fly in a way that will conceal your sword arm. Transport your blade into the illusion realm, and as I charge at Oromis, summon it at his neck. _

Eragon smiled as Saphira opened her mouth and unleashed blue flames into Glaedr's face. The golden dragon's head was bigger than her entire body, and he easily blew the fire away with one exhale of his scaled nostrils.

_It's the only chance we have, Saphira. Your idea may work. _

A massive claw came rushing at them, forcing Saphira to fly through the massive wide openings between reptile-like fingers. She continued up higher and higher, as Eragon focused his mind. The blade in his grip gradually vanished, and soon he held nothing in his hands. However, he saw his weapon clearly in his mind's eye, in the strange white vastness of the illusion realm.

_I'm ready. _

Saphira abruptly turned in the blue skies, charging at the massive behemoth below. Glaedr's mouth opened, thick smoky fire coming frothing from his maw. Saphira darted below the pillar of ash and heat, and then flew along the line of Glaedr's neck until she was directly below Oromis.

_Now!_

Oromis swung he sword at Eragon as Saphira lifted him up towards the Elf. He ducked under the swift strike, unbuckling himself from his saddle. The young human vaulted from Saphira's back, landing behind a bewildered Oromis. The Elf turned to attack, but then suddenly found Eragon's sword at his throat.

"_Heh. I did not think he would use the same spell that you employed_." Glaedr's voice was a calm rumble now, as opposed to the roaring storm it had been during battle.

Oromis stepped away from Eragon's sword, turning as Glaedr descended.

"You did well." He congratulated. Eragon placed a hand on his head to keep waving long hair in place.

"But _you _still saw it coming, didn't you?" Eragon asked. Oromis gave him a wry smile.

"I did, but only due to your training. Unfortunately, time is not on our side. The Sealed will soon strike. One day hence, and they will be at our walls."

Eragon had to speak over the wind to be heard as he walked about on Glaedr's large back.

"We cannot simply go back into your illusion world?" Eragon inquired.

"The Illusion World can bend time . . . but while it passes within the World, days will still come and go here. With the battle imminent, risking time to train within the World might spell doom for those on the outside. I had pondered as much before." Oromis answered.

"_The Illusion World is also no substitute for real training. Oromis brought you there to teach you a multitude of skills in quick succession. However, you are weaker than you would be if you had learned them naturally. To go back into the World with the Sealed marching upon us would be madness." _ Glaedr's low voice intoned. Eragon looked solemnly at the ground below, Glaedr's vast golden wings nearly blocking his view of the entire landscape. Saphira flew above the gigantic dragon as they all lowered themselves near the buildings of Gillendel. As the party drew closer, Eragon could see the Laen Elves preparing for battle. Rows of armored Elves stood before Islanzadi's castle, while a-horsed captains patrolled between the rows of infantry. Further out, marching Elves made their way out of the city, and to the southern fortress of Kel'am, where they would make their stand.

"I would find your friends, Drakefyre. Oromis and I have tasks to attend to." Glaedr's voice thundered as Saphira swooped past him, landing on the ground gracefully with a flare of her wings. Eragon nodded, vaulting from the dragon's back and landing on the hard stone below. Looking upwards, his blue-streaked hair waved violently as Glaedr's wings sent blasts of air downwards, causing various banners and flags to wave hurriedly in the formally still air.

"War is truly upon us again." Saphira reflected as she eyed the troops marching from the castle gates. Eragon walked towards her, his feelings matching hers. Here, in Gillendel, the war was faraway. The Elves lived peaceful and calm lives, unaffected by sickness or even violent death. It was if they inhabited a different world than humans, who had to contend with bandits, Urgals, and a plethora of other hardships. But now the illusion of peace would be broken.

"Eragon."

Arya's piercing voice broke Eragon's train of thought. His ears perked as her footsteps snapped against the ground, clicking softly as she approached. Eragon turned to greet her, smiling when he caught sight of her face. Angular and beautiful, the scars that she endured from Durza seemed like nothing but a faded memory, adding to her attractiveness. Her straight hair seemed to glow in the gaze of the sun, and her green eyes shimmered with characteristic annoyance.

_She loves me. I know she does. Otherwise, why would she have taken me? _ Eragon thought.

"We need to speak." Arya said sharply. Frowning, he walked to her as Saphira followed in his wake. Abruptly, Arya spun around and gave Saphira a deep and critical glare.

"Alone, Eragon. Without the prying eyes of dragons."

Eragon could feel anger flare up within Saphira, but she remained silent as he continued on. Arya lead him into the main castle courtyard, passing the magnificent fountains and various elven statues that had amazed him in what seemed to have been years ago. His long hair bounced against his neck as he walked, keeping up with Arya's quick pace. She turned left, and then right, and left again as they navigated through long resplendent halls with golden tapestries and ancient weapons behind containers of clear glass. Fine paintings of Elves also had a place on the walls they passed, the strange markings of the Laen Elf tongue ornately inscribed into the stone borders of the artworks. Finally, Arya led him into a secluded room that was basked in darkness. She opened her palm and muttered a spell, causing a ball of fire to sputter into life.

"Close the door." She ordered, and Eragon obediently touched the point of his fingers against old wood, shutting the door as it whined in quiet protest.

"What we did . . . " Arya began, wasting no time to ease into the subject.

"It was something that we both wanted. Something we needed." Eragon finished, his voice yearning. It took him all of his strength not to kiss her again, remembering the softness of her lips and the suppleness of her small but firm breasts cupped in his palm.

"The Summer Fertility is a period where . . . it is the only chance for Elves to . . . do what we did. Unlike humans, we cannot . . . indulge carnal desires whenever we wish. During this time, our . . . feelings are amplified."

"But that does not mean-"Eragon began. But Arya's green eyes settled on his, and he closed his mouth dumbly.

"What I . . . I had these _feelings_ . . . Eragon. I never . . . I never partook in the Fertility before. I needed . . . I needed you."

"Then what is the problem? Why did you bring me here?" Eragon began to feel uneasy.

"You don't understand . . . I was always jealous of you, Eragon. Jealous of you, the human who became the first Rider in over one hundred years, the human who defeated a Shade and the human who trained with Oromis. When I took it upon myself to escort the humans who stole Galbatorix's egg, I had hoped it would hatch for me. It was said that eggs hatch easier for Elves." Arya gave a bitter laugh, biting her lip as she did, a habit that Eragon had seen her succumb to many times before.

"Obviously, that is false. You are here as the Rider, not I. So . . . when I was . . . when my mind became addled by the Fertility . . . it increased that jealousy. I wanted control, Eragon. I wanted to control you. I was also afraid . . . afraid of the battle. Afraid of dying. I needed to feel in _control." _

Eragon furrowed his brow.

"That doesn't make sense. When we . . . when we slept together, you said that you-"

"_I do not love you, Eragon." _

The words came like a hammer that crashes into a glass window. Like a rock thrown into a still pool of water. Eragon's heart stopped, looking at Arya with his mouth agape.

"You gave me your maidenhood. You took me, I was your first and you were mine! What do you mean you don't 'love' me? After all we have been through?! What about what we will face? The dangers of war . . . of this world . . . love would strengthen us. Make us stronger than two separate beings. Arya I would _die_ for you."

"You mustn't say that." Arya looked away from him, hiding herself with her long locks.

"Arya, I love you." Eragon stepped towards her.

"You _will _not say such things, Eragon."

"I love you more than anything I have in my entire life. You are my world." Eragon could feel the tears begin to fall from his eyes.

"Be _**silent,**_ Eragon. I do not love you. I wanted nothing but to control you. I have no affection for you." Arya glared up at Eragon, who recoiled from her.

"So that's it then? You used me. What am I to you, then? What are we?"

"You are nothing but a foolish boy. And we are _nothing. _ You will speak of this to no one."

Eragon did not waste another word. He left the room faster than the air when he pulled the door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Tears burned as they bled from his brown eyes, and he did not attempt to hide his sobs while he walked across the smooth floor of Islanzadi's abode, not knowing where to go, or what to do.

Back in the old dusted room, Arya herself cried, but for a different reason. She sobbed due to the fact she was forced to hide the truth from Eragon. She wept because of the son she now carried in her stomach.


	3. Chapter 3: Father & Son

CHAPTER 3: FATHER & SON

MORZAN poked at the small fire before him with a thin and pointed stick. Murtagh watched warily, still bothered by his father's new womanly disguise.

_He turned me into one, too. _Murtagh thought with a grimace, aware again of the small and firm breasts that hid underneath a brown tunic. His hair was no longer black, but light brown, and his eyes were the color of ashen wood, no longer green. The only appearances among their party that went unchanged were that of Murtaghen and Thorn. The two dragons stat by their riders in their humanskins, Thorn's bright red hair contrasting with Murtaghen's dark locks. Despite being in human form, the heat emanating from the pair seemed to be stronger than that of the small flame that cast a ghoulish shadow on all of them, tall trees with twisted branches looming over the party ominously. The night was silent, and beyond the light of the flames a deep seated darkness took root, an opaqueness that not even the pale moon could penetrate.

"The battle will start tomorrow." Murtagh began, speaking haltingly at the sound of his own voice, which was now lighter and entirely different than the one he had before.

"We will cross into Kel'am tonight. I sense the Sealed Elves preparing for conflict. And darker things lurk between these woods . . . resting here may have been a mistake." Murtaghen gave Morzan a sideways glance, to which Morzan ignored. Pulling his stick from the fire, two roasted slabs of meat dripped hot grease passing through the cooking flame.

"Maintaining such a spell is taxing. I need to recover some of my strength in order to keep our appearances hidden. What would happen if I lost power, and our true faces were revealed? Death would embrace us happily."

Thorn gave a toothy grin, his sharp teeth gleaming almost as bright as the moon.

"I would welcome the chance. I want to see just how powerful these Elves are."

Murtaghen's eyes lifted from the campfire and settled on Thorn.

"Don't be a fool. You're still young and inexperienced. An Elf could make quick work of you. Don't underestimate them, or else you will surely die."

Murtagh shuddered at the words of his namesake. Even when he was in deep Surda, he never truly felt as if his life was in danger. During swordplay, he often _knew _what his opponent would do next, and could maneuver accordingly. This caused him to view warfare as little more than a game- a game that he was adept in. But this . . . this was real. If the Sealed Elves won this battle, nothing would stop their onslaught. With a resurrected Golhlobor at the helm of their army, they would bring the deepest circle of Hell to all of Alagaesia.

"Galbatorix and the others must have noticed us missing by now. Alauinel foremost among them. I feel as if she knows." Thorn lifted his head to the black sky above. In his short life, had never grown to like Alauinel; Murtagh could not blame his dragon. The Elf woman was enthralling but at the same time frightening, a horror that could not be articulated. She was the beautiful rose with a poison thorn, the glass of sweetened wine that harbored a venomous aftertaste.

"It is no odd thing for Morzan to go away for days on end. He has done such numerous times. It may be questioned where you and Murtagh have gone, but considering that Murtagh is Morzan's son, I doubt such a query will be pursued." Morzan's dragon offered.

Murtagh himself glared ahead at the scarred woman who hid the face of Morzan.

"My loving sire. The scars you gave me in my youth have healed well. Perhaps if I die tomorrow, I will be able to show Selena."

Morzan's pupil's constricted while he prepped the cooling meat. He separated the food among them, silent with a taunt face, meat floating towards each soul seated.

"You have an ignorant sense of self-worth, boy." Murtaghen snarled, taking his meat with slightly pointed nails.

"Why did you kill her? Was it just because of Caomhim? Or because she feared you?" Murtagh took a bite out of his meager meal, hot juice falling down his pointed chin.

"I did not wish to kill your mother. Just as I did not wish to hurt you or your brothers. I was afraid." Morzan's voice seemed to carry on the rousing wind around them.

"I did not truly know of my race until I was brought before the Riders. Even then, it was not until Oromis cruelly described my creation that I learned I was created from my mother's own blood. She yearned to create a full-blooded Ceryani. Due to this, I had bouts of madness. I have controlled these . . . outbursts. If what your mother did had happened now, I believe she would still be alive."

Murtagh wiped his mouth while Thorn tore into his dinner.

"But there's more, isn't there?" He asked. Morzan nodded slowly.

"among the Ceryani, the _Mergoi_ where the ones with power. They could see the future, and had control over various types of magic. It is because of this that the ancient Elves hunted down and killed the Ceryani clans."

"Save for my grandmother." Murtagh finished carefully.

"Goenethe was created the same way I was. A secret line of self-bred Mergoi that one day would restore the Ceryani to their former power. However . . .using witchcraft, Goenethe increased the potency of my Mergoi blood. She attempted to create the perfect Ceryani, and in doing so ruined my psychology. The reason I killed your mother and hurt you and your brothers is also due to the fact I feared the future I saw. That is why we are here now, Murtagh. I know what I have done to you, and I am truly sorry. I hope that you can be a better father to your child than I have been for you."

The thought of his child brought back the sight of Nasuada. Her face created a vortex of emotions that whirled and screamed within his mind. He loved her . . . yet he also remembered the lingering sting of the whip that made his back a scarred ruin, remembered the strain of his muscles as he was strung up against a cold and dripping wall. Yet Murtagh realized that killing Nasuada would make him no better than Morzan.

"Too late in life I found out that nothing is perfect. This world is filled with terror and death, Murtagh. Throughout your entire life you will deal with bad things. Things that make life not worth living. People will disgust, betray, and vilify you. But sometimes, in quick fleeting moments, you will experience true happiness. It is for that that you will continue on. And it is for that you will fight the Sealed Elves. In short, the pain makes those twinkling sparks of joy more worthwhile." Morzan wiped his hands and stood up. Looking into the deep vastness of the forest, he turned his head back to Murtagh and the others.

"The Laen Elves have in fact spotted us. But they refuse to leave their walls. They will not shoot us as we approach. However, we will need to address each other as different names from here on out. That will mask our feeling of deception that even the most foolish of Elves could sense."

"What should I call myself?" Thorn asked, facing Murtagh with blood-painted eyes. Despite his size, Murtagh often forgot that Thorn was very, _very_ young.

"Whatever you wish. I will go by the name of Ella." Murtagh shook his long brown hair, and then stood. His arms were cut with feminine muscle, marking him as the swordsman he still and always will be.

"My name is Valyn." Thorn stood next.

"Katarhix." Murtaghen took his place by Morzan.

"Hadevai. Remember these names, and place them deep within your heart. If you do anything less we will be discovered." Morzan warned.

(line break)

Ella stepped over jumbled roots as her feet ached. They had walked for days, even after using Hadevai's spell to transport them from Uru'baen. Valyn moved slightly ahead of her, while Katarhix moved on farther still. They all followed the lead of Hadevai, the scarred woman. Gigantic trees surrounded them, watching every minute movement they made. Silence settled between them, deeper and more complete than the darkness that almost blinded Ella. As a Rider, her eyes would slowly be able to see in the dark- but she had not been a Rider for long. It annoyed her that she had to be partially led by Valyn, and that at the moment she was the most disadvantaged of the group. Their story was simple- They were all Eastern Alagaesians, which would explain why they spoke Elvish- that fled their lower-ranking House that was undefended, as many Varden allied Houses left with all of their strength for the South, leaving them weak and supple for conquering. Hadevai would do most of the talking- the others would simply speak only when addressed. Moving like wraiths, they made their way through the old city of oak. An earthly smell filled Ella's nostrils, and in certain places she could feel the virgin earth through the soles of her boots. This was old and fertile ground, untouched even by the industrial Laen Elves. Soon, the forest would become a place of war. The trees dwindled and grew more sparse, becoming less crowded and more distantly placed. Despite this, there were still many of them, and out of pure boredom Ella would count them as they continued on. It wasn't until Hadevai spoke that she was broken from her walking daze.

"Guard your minds." She muttered. In the dark, Ella could slightly make out the stretch of a large wall, and then noticed small wavering beacons of flame placed at marked points among the battlements.

"Kel'am." Valyn whispered. Ella again cursed her eyes. The fortress was probably a sight to behold- a vision that she could not see clearly.

"Do we continue?" Katarhix asked.

"No, they are riding out to meet us. Remember your names. The entire world is at risk." Hadevai reminded. Ella set her brows, forcing herself to forget the name and life of the young man called Murtagh Ciriccian.


	4. THE FIRST ASSAULT: CHAPTER FOUR

(A/N: FIRSTLY to any Twilight fans . . . I'm thinking about starting up my twilight fanfic. Most people have liked it, so if that interests you, check it out in my profile. BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, I know I JUST started Brisingr . . . but I've torn through the harry potter books and I have an amazing concept for a Twilight/Harry Potter crossover. So if you liked the Twilight fanfic I have up NOW, please let me know if you would like to see that rebranded as a crossover series. Secondly . . . people have been asking about the codex and I don't know if I've said this before but I deleted that story. I'm working on a wiki for the rewrite which should be done shortly. I'm just waiting to get to a point in Brisingr where I can add some more stuff. THIRDLY- The reason why Murtagh and Morzan are women (I know I know, hear me out) is because someone requested that I add the scarred woman and her companion to the rewrite, and make them relevant to the story. Well, that's what I did for those wondering. And please . . . PLEASE REVIEW! I just want to take this moment for a special shoutout, because these people have reviewed consistently since Eragon.

**Elemental Dragonslayer**! You've been more than loyal and I value your reviews so much. You have great insight and when you give a review I know I did a good job.

**Restrained Freedom**! I looked at your first review for Eragon and you said how at first you were put off by the rewrite, but came back and loved it. I just want to say that I am glad you stayed. You have no idea how well your reviews keep this rewrite from getting TOO weird, and if you don't mind me requesting, if you are familiar with harry potter or Twilight, I'd like you to review that project if it indeed starts.

There's a couple more people who have reviewed most of Eragon/Eldest, but they haven't moved on to Brisingr yet xD. Besides, this A/N is too long already. Anyway, enjoy chapter 4! (Also, there is going to be a change in here that may make some people a little annoyed. It's my fault for not including them sooner, but to have them on the Varden side wouldn't make sense since the Varden's army has pretty much been detailed already . . . ALSO! You will be reading and be reintroduced to the term Secondson. For any of you that have forgotten, in Dwarib society a secondson is the offspring of a noble house that was…well born second to the first son. Due to the fact that dwarves can have as many as thirty children, secondsons are disenfranchised so they do not challenge the rule of their older sibling, who will inherit the power of his father's house. They take names for themselves based on their profession.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FIRST ASSAULT

"The advance troops have made contact with Feinster's forces. After slight losses on both sides, Feinster infantry men have fled back into their trenches."

The heat of the outside world slinked into the tan tent of Orrin's command center. He was not yet in full battle array, but even the slight cloth tunic he wore seemed too much. Sweat caused his straight blonde hair to stick to his forehead, and his green eyes itched from the floating particles of sand that would kick up every time someone moved. It took all of his temperament to remain the mighty and just King, and not to regress into the spoiled child that he was more than a year ago.

"Is that all, General Kliss?" Orrin pointed down towards the map that was drawn over the table below him. General Kliss and several others lined both sides of said table, cups of melting ice by their armored hands. The heat had gotten to them as well- The only beings who seemed unbothered were the two dwarven mercenary leaders that Vermal Nyste had brought with him- along with thousands of Dwarib infantry.

"Yes, Your Grace. I believe now is the time to move up the main force, so that our siege weapons will be in range of the walls." Kliss dragged his finger from their marked place on the map, and to the stylized rendition of Feinster.

"With this move, we will pressure them into an even tighter corner. Our mages can flush out their trenches, with infantry cover." Kliss drew his hands from the map and clasped them behind an armored back.

Vermal Nyste turned to Orrin, his strange eyes bright with intellect. As his Vizier, he stood at the right hand of Orrin in nearly all matters.

"Kliss is correct. But no doubt Lady Lorana is waiting for this moment to unleash Avela and his dragon." He whispered carefully. Orrin knew this better than anyone. He had spent sleepless nights attempting to figure how to defeat Avela. No matter what plan he thought up, they all would cost him dearly in terms of casualties. No one here, not even the few Elves that remained, had experience fighting _dragons. _

"Kliss, have your scouts seen any movements along the battlements? Have you spied Avela and his beast?" Orrin wiped his slick forehead, and took a long drink of cold water that seemed to freeze over his burning lungs.

"We have seen his dragon fly from the city, and into the clouds above. It will routinely circle the walls, no doubt inspiring the few men behind them."

One of Orrin's generals coughed, causing all in attendance to shift their attention to the man. He was called Ronnal Boyt, a balding man who's skin had turned red from the sun. Adding this to his bright blue eyes, Ronnal looked more comical than fearsome. However, Orrin knew the man to be a great warrior. Despite his age, Ronnal commanded a hard and honed body, with large arms and a thick muscled chest.

"The Impori seers have informed my captain that Feinster has received reinforcements." Ronnal said quietly. A silence passed over the table like mist moving across the morning field.

"When did you hear word of this?" Kliss asked.

"Early this morning. I did not wish to perturb the King-"

Orrin slammed his fists onto the table. Everyone, save for the dwarves, flinched. He drew his hand from the hard wood, blood dripping from a finger that had cut itself on the rounded surface of a nail.

"You did not wish to _perturb _me? Ronnal, how much sleep do you think I have _gotten_ since we arrived here? Everything depends on this battle. _Everything. _And now the Imperials buffed their numbers . . . How did they even appear so quickly? What have the seers said?" Orrin narrowed his eyes at Ronnal, who fidgeted in his gaze.

"They believe . . . that Galbatorix has unleashed the Du Vrangr Gata." Ronnal dabbed at his face with a small towel.

_The Du Vrangr Gata. Servants of The Wandering Path of the Eight Schools. Masters of Magic. _

"With their power, it would be a simple thing to transport a large force from a nearby location." Vermal offered silently. Orrin waved the Dwarib off, placing both hands on the map as he honed in on Feinster.

"We have our own mages. And the Impori witches besides." He said carefully. There were nods and grunts of agreement among the table, but everyone knew what Orrin did- The Du Vrangr Gata were the foremost of all mages and wizards. A dangerous coalition of magic-users trained in all the schools of magic- magic that was not even studied among the Riders- when they had existed.

"Human King Orrin, if I may." The aforementioned King rose his eyes towards the pair of dwarf captains. The one speaking had black hair that reached his cheekbones, and stood nearly as tall as Orrin, with four times the muscle. His completely black irises flickered, and the stone wrappings around his forearms cackled as he drew them together.

"The Dwarib have a natural resistance to magic. I believe if you order your magic users to attack the trenches, Lorana will call out hers as well. That is when you would send us in for the charge. If Avela pounces on his with his dragon . . . well, the Dwarib are famous for dragon-slaying."

"Dragon-slaying is an art. A learned skill that was made illegal two hundred years ago, Bloodedge." Vermal gave the secondson a sly smile.

"The Warrior's Guild has always been slow to adapt to changing times. " Turning to Orrin, Bloodedge bowed.

"It would be our honor to lead the Vanguard. The trenches will need to be cleared in order to bring up the trebuchets."

Orrin smiled weakly at the Dwarib.

"It doesn't look like I have much of a choice. Let's get to work, and win this damnable city."

The camp exploded into action as his generals left the tent. Orrin's squire came running in after them, sunburnt and gasping.

"Help me get dressed, boy." Orrin ordered as the boy was already scurrying to retrieve Orrin's chest full of armaments.

"Vermal, your Bloodedge has already proved himself useful."

The Nyste laughed lightly while Orrin's squire clicked gilded leggings onto Orrin.

"As long as the money is there, he will be more than that. a skilled lot, the Warrior's Guild." Orrin lifted his arms while his squire strapped vambraces, couters, and greaves onto Orrin's body. Vermal watched with a critical eye as the armor was applied.

"You will tire out, wearing all of that. It is rather hot in High Surda." He said quietly. Orrin paused. The dwarf was right. He remembered how Beyonders in Nasuada's tribe had dressed sparingly.

"Squire, leave the helm and gorget. Bring me my sword." Orrin commanded. The boy nodded like a happy dog.

"what of your shield?" He asked.

"leave that behind as well."

The squire retreated deeper into the tent to dig out Orrin's weapons.

"I must ask . . . do you plan to lead the Vanguard?" Vermal questioned.

Orrin wanted to say _no, _but a King that hides behind a wall of men is no King at all. He would be at the front of the Dwarib force, sword held high.

"Yes." Orrin rasped as he took his sword from the squire. Vermal grinned and lowered his head at Orrin as he made his way out from the tent, men running about him as Feinster glistened in the hot sun beyond.

"Don't die, King o' Men." Vermal offered. Orrin shut his eyes as his horse was presented to him.

_If I die . . . the deaths of my forebears will be for nothing. Alagaesia . . . it is mine by rights alone. I am Orrin Langfeld, King of the Realm._

Six thousand Dwarib with one thousand mages intermixed with skilled Impori witches rode out with Orrin. Wearing nothing but a tan turban over his head, he felt the sun beat down on his partially exposed nose while his horse sauntered ahead. The hastily carved trenches snaking about the bowels of Feinster's walls became apparent as the first assault force drew closer. Angela, the leader of the Impori, laughed beside Orrin, astride her own horse.

"What's so funny?" Orrin turned his head towards the woman.

"Oh nothing. I usually laugh at just about anything when I am precariously close to death." Angela said with a smile. Orrin frowned and kicked his horse ahead, dust rising from shined hooves. He saw the flags of the Empire waving from within the deep trenches beyond, and turned towards his army.

"This is the first true battle for Alagaesia. If you fight with valor, you will be rewarded. Anything less, and you will die." Orrin unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Feinster.

"There is the enemy. Your fears. Your demons. Vanquish them today!" He cried, kicking his horse ahead while his army thundered behind. He crouched as the mounted Dwarib gained on him, shouting in their strange tongues, buffed by the thunder of their horses' hooves. Suddenly, a row of men rose from the trenches, crossbows in hand. With a series of heavy _hisses, _the dangerous bolts cut through leg of man and horse alike. Orrin gripped his reigns as his horse whinnied, a bolt jutting from its knee. The screams of their mounts filled the air alongside the dangerous whisper of crossbow fire.

"Angela!" Orrin cried, hoping the witch was somewhere in range of his voice. Orrin's horse fell over, The King narrowly able to scramble out of his saddle as it did so. Landing in the dust, he pulled the lower portion of his turban from a dry mouth, rising to his feet to see his disjointed cavalry.

It was then the sky darkened, and Orrin's ears heard the heavy flap of scaled wings.


	5. Chapter Five: Emergence

CHAPTER FIVE: EMERGENCE

"_Orrin!" _ The King of men lay on the ground, dazed as a mouth filled with rows upon rows of sharp teeth opened wide, a blue spark forming at the end of the maw and then jutting forth in the form of black and red flames.

_This is the end. _

Suddenly, Orrin felt hands around his shoulders as he was pulled backward, while a young raven haired girl sprung forth, placing her hands before the great dragon. A blue screen appeared before her, causing the great torrent of fire to separate into two different streams that were redirected away from them.

"You've done many foolish things, but this marks among the finest actions of foolery."

Angela lifted Orrin up to his feet, and he noticed how shaken he was. His main advance force had begun their attack on the trenches; leaping into the cavernous alleys with axes, greatswords, and magic. But that seemed secondary to the sight of Avela and his dragon. The creature was thin, but it had a disgusting elongated look to it- an almost emaciated appearance as the bones of its body were easily visible, shifting underneath dark yellow scales. It had maroon bat-like wings, the claws of them digging into the earth while talon-clad feet separated stone, dirt, and rock with every heavy step. The girl stood before it defiantly, her defensive wall shimmering while the clamor of battle rung about the scene.

"A mighty feat. The ability to stop my fire is not something I can scoff at." The dragon's voice was nothing more than a deep _hiss, _and even while speaking, the heat from its breath was nearly palpable.

Angela moved past Orrin as she pulled the earthen cloak away from her body.

"His name is Absolearet. He is quite the terror." Underneath her cloak she wore an ebony vest over bandaged skin. Two short blades waited above her lower back, while her legs were clad in a dark skirt reinforced with slabs of cut wood. Without warning, she charged as the girl jumped back, Absolearet cracking her ethereal shield with a strike of a spiked tail. Angela spun on the ground, drawing her weapons effortlessly and then vaulting into the air, evading a stab of Absolearet's tail as it crashed into the dusty ground. Orrin watched open-mouthed at the sight of Angela descending upon Avela, who drew his thin sword and traded blows that seemed to ignite the air itself in fire. Avela bellowed with a heavy swing, the thin blade he carried glowing like the sun itself. Angela evaded the attack as she fell past the dragon, but suddenly _fire_ exploded from the shaft of the sword itself, traveling upwards and downwards vertically- with Angela beneath it. She crashed into the ground with a thick _boom _of dark smoke, electricity sparking amongst the moving clouds of dust.

"This . . . this is true power." Orrin finally was able to gather his words, the sword he was so proud to carry limp in his hands.

"You haven't seen anything yet. They have only just begun." The girl inclined her head to the clearing smoke, which revealed Angela standing upright in a small crater, swords held out before her.

"My name is Elva. If you don't want to die, I would advise you to go away from here."

Orrin shook himself, lifting his blade with both hands so that the edge jutted proudly from his person. Elva looked back at him with a raised brow, and then smirked.

"As you wish. Just because you're the King, don't expect me to cover up for your weakness." Elva said, running forward to join Angela. Orrin, red-faced, followed her, his stomach rising as Absolearet's eyes shifted to the sight of him. With an amused guffaw, he spread his wings wide and lifted himself into the air.

"You fight the Impori Witch, Avela . . . I will handle the mice." Absolearet ordered. Without question, Avela summersaulted from his dragon's saddle and landed before Angela. The witch instantly charged at Avela, while Absolearet eclipsed the sun before Elva and Orrin.

"Look alive!" Elva screamed before her voice was overtaken by a massive roar. The sound caused Orrin's sword to vibrate in his grip, frozen in space as Absolearet descended downwards, wings pressed close to the sides of his long body. Orrin shook himself awake and spun on the ground, running from Absolearet's impact and then falling over from the force of which the dragon crashed into the earth. He rolled about on the ground, dazed while sound was muted, far away from the carnage of battle.

_Orrin! _

_ORRIN!_

"_**ORRIN**__!" _Elva's bellow snapped Orrin's mind back into awareness. He scrambled to his feet, holding his sword straight before his person, a weapon that seemed to grow more and more useless by the second. A brown haze of uprooted sand floated before Absolearet, making his body almost indiscernible. The only thing Orrin could make out was the silhouette of his wings and the glow of the dragon's eyes. Elva was crouched beside him, hands held out and prepared for any attack.

"I have killed Lords. Riders. Elves. Wizards and Warlocks. Witches and Shades. What makes you _children_ believe you can defeat me?" Absolearet exhaled with one _puff_ of his nostrils, erasing the cloud that had obscured him. He now stood as no longer a dragon- but a man with dark skin and golden hair. Yellow eyes narrowed at the sight of Orrin and Elva, while slim arms folded across a wide chest.

"A shifter.." Elva whispered. Absolearet's pointed ears twitched at her words.

"A _mere shifter? _Ignorant child. I am a being much greater than that. Stronger than any human, or any Elf. I am an _Eldeena_."

Orrin's ears _popped_, and he no longer saw Absolearet standing before him. Instead, he heard the voice of the now-human dragon from _behind. _

"Let's see how well your skin _burns." _

Elva spun on the soles of her shoes, violet eyes fixed on Absolearet. She opened her palm, and a zigzagging bolt of lightning sprung forth from her hands. Absolearet hissed as Elva telepathically pulled Orrin away from the transformed dragon, their vision conquered by a blinding light, Elva's attack connecting successfully.

"You're less than useless." Elva complained with a heavy pant. Orrin couldn't disagree with her, and looked at the burned wing that defended Absolearet from the brunt of Elva's lightning.

"Powerful, for one as young as yourself. I would expect no less from a girl with _that _type of blood." Absolearet called from behind his wing. Elva's fine black brows angled at his statement.

"What are you speaking of?" She responded. Absolearet's wounded wing regressed back into his body, the slim and tall figure clad in ebony skin moving forward with delicate steps, his blonde hair bouncing as he did so.

"I see. So _Angela _has not told you. I suppose, after I kill you and your so-called Impori queen, Morzan will thank me. You _do_ look somewhat like him. Though the _blood_ is much stronger in you than it was in him. You are marked by those purple eyes of yours, child."

Orrin's eyes turned their attention to Elva.

"What is he talking about?" He whispered. Elva leaned her head forward, flexing slim fingers.

"I don't know. He's trying to break my focus. Between the two of us, I'm the strongest. If he can defeat me, killing you would be simple." Elva offered Orrin a wolfish grin.

"Well, thanks for that." He retorted, flourishing the long gilded blade he carried before his body. He could feel it settle in now- the battle focus between the three of them. From this point, he knew that all of their lives were on a timed limit. After passing this threshold, the only conclusion that could be reached would be the death of either Absolearet, or he and Elva.

The dragon leaned forward, two wings exploding from a human back, granting his charge unnatural speed. Elva thrust her hand out and spread it before she and Orrin, green flames spreading out like water from an exploding well. Absolearet thrust his wings downward, flying high into the air, Orrin and Elva looking up at him. Laughing, Absolearet spoke while smoke began to seep from his mouth.

"It has been fun. But I tire of these games. Since when did children play at war?" Absolearet cackled, and _roared_ down at them. Behind the yawp, however, followed a gigantic orb of black fire. It rivaled the sun in the sky, and basked Orrin and Elva in a strange shadowy light.

"Orrin . . . I'm sorry about this." Elva pressed her hands into her stomach, sucking it in and straightening her posture. Orrin stared at the girl's jutting rib bones and then again at the ball of flame that hung in the sky.

"Sorry about what? The fact that we're about to die?"

Elva's eyes went from violet to _black, _and when she spoke, Orrin heard faint _screams _coming from within her body.

"No. _You're about to see why mages hunted and killed witches_." The miniature sun sped up as it fell upon them, but Elva opened her mouth wide, unnaturally so, as azure spirits flew from between her lips. Standing before her, the apparition had the appearance of an Elf, except with blue-within blue eyes and weathered skin. It carried a wicked-looking spear, and wore ancient stone armor. Beside it, three more similarly dressed ghosts landed.

"What . . . what is this?" Orrin gasped as the spirits each pointed their spears at the black sun. With an eerie howl, they caused the flames to retard and then vanish in the sky, a bewildered Absolearet staring from on above.

"They are the four chiefs of the Talin Clan, an extinct Elven race that ruled before Aryan Valbhorethlian conquered their descendants. These are the true _Dragon Slayers." _


	6. Chapter 6: Flashing Mire

CHAPTER SIX: FLASHING MIRE

(A/N): I fixed an error in chapter 3 where Morzan calls Goenethe his grandmother. That was supposed to be Murtagh stating that. ALSO we passed 1,000 views!

THE ARMIES had crashed together in an unholy union of sound. Above, winged creatures flew about, screeching with twisted and elongated beaks as skull-clad riders snapped corded whips at the air. Trees burned, giving off a deep heat that settled on the battlefield. Eragon could hardly breathe from within his elven helm, but he pressed on with his sword held high.

_We will win. We have to win. _

Eragon roared at a sealed elf running at him, wielding two bronze axes. His own steel sword rang beautifully as it bounced off of the sealed elf's swirling weapons, causing him to stagger backward. Shaking himself, he rushed at the elf, both hands clasped on the leather hilt of his weapon as the sealed elf vaulted over him. Eragon turned to see the rusted edge of the sealed's ax angled for his neck.

"_Brysta." _

The sealed's arm broke in a horrifying chorus of cracks, while his arm splintered, white bone pushing black skin upwards, revealing muscle and blood underneath. It screamed, looking at Eragon with frenzied eyes and lifting the one remaining arm it had left. With a mouth full of blood, it snarled and renewed its attack. Eragon ducked behind a lazy overhead blow, and then flipped the grip on his blade, impaling the elf from behind. It let out a gurgling cry, falling to the ground in death and freeing Eragon's sword from its flesh in the process. He looked up and scanned the battlefield. Intermixed between the tall trees that surrounded Kel'am, Sealed Elves fought with Islanzadi's forces, along with the Dwarib troops that Orik summoned. A few Xoshans were in the fray as well, taking the form of fearsome bears and fleet-footed wolves.

"Rider. I am sorry, that Sealed should not have come close enough to hurt you."

Eragon's eyes drifted to the strange Elf that stood beside him. He was young, around Arya's age, with eagle-like eyes and frayed blonde hair that spiked at his forehead, and then relaxed into a straight mane as it traveled down the back of his neck. He had light brown skin, and wore a dark cloak fastened to his leather chestguard with claws. Light colored trousers followed the length of his long legs, until they were met by fur-lined boots with intricate design. In his right hand he held a long spear, while his left arm carried a large shield. Around his wrists, tufts of blonde fur grew, and a similarly colored tail swung about his feet. He was Blodhgarm, the bastard son of a Laen elf and an Xoshan shifter.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle. Have you received word of the others?" Eragon's mind, despite himself, instantly darted to Arya. He was tasked with holding Kel'am- but Arya, Orik, Oromis, and even Saphira waited at the edge of the Du Weldenvarden's forests, where the ashen hills separated the wood from the Sealed Elves main force.

Blodhgarm nodded briskly.

"They have engaged the Sealed, Lord Rider."

Eragon shook his head, stomping forward while Blodhgarm pounced after him.

"I am not a _Lord . . . _I should have been notified that the battle at the ashen hills begun . . . I should be there."

Arya had purposely separated them. Kel'am was a valuable position- but it was easily defended. The Sealed Elves sent a half-hearted portion of their massive army to see if Kel'am could be taken- therefore flanking the Laen Elves. Looking at the battle now, Eragon would say that the Sealed failed. What remained of their forces began to melt away, the gigantic winged beasts who loomed above the tall trees turning in the skies and flying away. Blodhgarm's cat-like yellow eyes followed the movements of the monsters from between burning branches.

"They never entered the battle themselves." He ventured. Eragon realized that Blodhgarm was right- the creatures had not touched down or even attempted to fight from the skies. They simply _watched. _

An uneasiness began to creep over Eragon as the battle died down around him.

"You fought well." A voice called behind Eragon. He and Blodhgarm both turned in unison, to see the lone travelers they had found the night before. A woman with scarred wrists and a handsome face offered a small smile. Beside her, a pretty dark haired girl frowned, a bloodied sword held in her muscular arms. Behind both of the women, a tall youth with an angular face loomed, red hair framing his cheeks and burning pupils. Another man stood behind the older woman, with ebony-colored locks and dark yellow eyes.

"Thank you, Hadevai. I am glad that you remain unscathed." Eragon bowed his head slightly. The brown-haired girl narrowed her eyes.

"We are not easily killed." She said with a touch of animosity. The older woman gave the girl a look, but stepped forward. She inclined her neck, her eyes scanning first Eragon, then Blodhgarm, and finally the burning aftermath of battle that settled around them all.

"I was led to believe that there was a Rider here. A youth named Eragon."

"I am Eragon Drakefyre. Arya . . . the leader of the defense force, deemed it wise to have Saphira, my dragon, fight with her on the front. I know the battle there has begun . . . but I do not know how they fare."

It was slight, and if Eragon were not a Rider he would not have sensed it. But there was a _shift_ in Hadevai's countenance, a looming darkness that quickly concealed itself.

"A foolish thing to separate a Rider and his dragon." Hadevai's eyes darted away from Eragon, and then gave yet another thin smile.

"We have company." She said, stepping away from Eragon and Blodhgarm.

The company was made up of armored Elves, at least a dozen of them, all with gore-covered weapons and shields splattered with muck and grime. Between them, however, was the elf that Eragon had met what seemed like centuries before-

Deslyewo Aufen. Her hair was like beaten obsidian, and seemed to nearly absorb all of the light that attempted to touch it. Her eyes were as blue as Saphira's scales, and her small mouth was flanked by deep-cut dimples on either side.

"We have successfully repelled the Sealed Elves." She informed as Blodhgarm bowed. Eragon stood awkwardly, until he too followed Blodhgarm's lead.

"You may rise." She said as she walked past them. Their armor clinked as they rose from the ground, eyes following Deslyewo as she spoke.

"The other skirmishes seem to have failed as well. The Sealed attempted numerous attacks on the far-away wallposts. I am gladdened to say that we, so far, have repelled them. But we would be foolish to say the battle has been won already." Deslyewo turned her head, bright blue eyes settling on Eragon while two looming trees, engulfed with flame, glowed over her shoulders.

"The battle of the Ashen Hills will decide everything. And so far, it has not played in our favor. I have been scryed the casualties."

Eragon's heart seemed to stop beating, and sound seemed like a long forgotten and faraway thing.

_Please. Not Saphira and Arya. If I hear those names . . . _

"Your friends and the Queen have survived the initial attacks. The Sealed are testing the strength of our main force. It seems that there too, those strange winged beasts do not enter the battle directly. I believe that they are sending the rabble of their army to battle first, to weaken us."

"I wish to join the front." Eragon blurted. Deslyewo's blue eyes hardened like ice.

"No. You are needed here." She said with finality. Eragon opened his mouth, but Deslyewo spoke again.

"If the Sealed break into Kel'am, then the other posts will follow. If that happens, we will be surrounded, and the capital will be undefended. We are spread thinly enough already."

Eragon lowered his head, eyes darkening.

"Saphira and I fight as _one. _Separating us-"

"Was the order of _Auesame Arya-aftan Delana Valbhorethlian._ The Commander-General of the defense effort. It is not my place to subvert her orders . . . the same goes for you, Rider."

Eragon placed his fist over an armored chest. Gritting his teeth, he bowed deeply.

"Of course, General Deslyewo."

The Elfwoman nodded with approval, while her men formed around her.

"You and Blodhgarm will scout the perimeter. If you see anything of note, report to me directly."

Deslyewo left at that, her men stomping in her quiet wake. Eragon threw off his helm, long brown hair, lined with blue streaks, whipping about his ears.

"A shade," The dark-haired man said suddenly. Eragon nodded with a grim smile, throwing his sword to the ground.

"I can control it. At least I think I can now." He said.

"How did you come to host a spirit?" Hadevai pressured.

"A shade that came from Durza lead an assault directed towards the underground city of Tronjheim. I defeated it . . . but it attempted to possess me in the process."

"A Rider that has the power of a Shade . . . you have the potential to become a being of myth. A hero of legend." Hadevai smiled.

"An abomination." The girl muttered.

"Enough, Ella." Hadevai snapped, her eyes never leaving Eragon's.

"one more thing . . . Eragon. We are going to the frontlines. If you wish to join us . . . you need to only ask."

(line break)

Lorgainne sat by Katrina. She was asleep, but rest and food had caused color to return to her face. Her stomach bore a small bump, Roran's child growing faster than normally. He was in Gillendel, the capital of the Laen Elves. White walls curved all about him, and outside trees with pale leaves waved in a silent breeze. The smell of fresh flowers wafted in the air, and it seemed that in Gillendel, _someone _was always playing music. From the quarters he was given, the high palace of the queen could be seen from the green hill that rose over the entire city.

_Despite the battle going on outside of the walls . . . we're safe. I've keep her safe, Roran. _

Lorgainne reached for Katrina's brow, moving a strand of hair away from her eyes. She moaned silently, and then nestled underneath the thick covers the elves gifted her.

Suddenly, a flash filled the sky. The sound of crashing rubble came almost delayed, as a gust of violent wind nearly caused Lorgainne to be knocked out of his chair. His animals began barking and hissing as the Pyke leaned out of his window.

In the center of the city, a hooded being wielding a wicked-looking staff whirled about, fire spouting from weathered finger-tips as the surrounding buildings exploded in flame.

_No. _

Above, a crackling cloud swirled into existence, lighting booming from within the rolling folds. Creatures fell from the cloud and to the ground, running through the streets as the reserve Laen forces began to engage them.

_They made us think that they needed to break past the walls . . . but they simply teleported over us . . _

The cloud vanished, but in its place a lone being floated upon nothing. Lorgainne could not make out its features, save for flowing dark hair that seemed to squeeze between tight gray bandages that wrapped its entire body.

_Gods help us. _

"Golhlobor." Lorgainne's eyes widened while the mirage of peace and security shattered about him.


	7. The aide-mémoire: a return to Brisingr

First and foremost, I want to apologize for how confusing the past months have been.

Juggling between authors is not fun at all, and I realize now where I left off Brisingr couldn't have been worse. I will also not lie to you- people have been reading Eragon and Eldest, and it has gotten more popular and I believe I abandoned the rewrite at a really bad time, where it could either become VERY popular, or recede into the fanfic abyss. Honestly, I had gotten fatigued writing, and some bad reviews discouraged me. And so I worked on other projects (Such as my breakthrough writer story, wish me luck guys!) while pawning off the rewrite to (as you know him) Princevegeta. (There's some number after that but hey I don't remember sue me.)

So, here we are with a new writer. He made a disappointing number of chapters while I was away, and yesterday he emailed me about his own hiatus. (Which I'm not sure I even believe). The chapters he DID write did not follow my guidelines at all. For instance, I would never kill off Eragon like that, and stories that begin in the near future and then tell what happened in the following chapters are confusing. I do not believe he planned to follow my outline which is a shame because I believe a lot of you would enjoy the story, and the things I had planned.

TLDR; I will be continuing this fanfic from where I left off. Honestly, I should never have left. Bad reviews really stunted me, and I realize now that _that _isn't an excuse. Eragon/Eldest has 70k views and over 300 reviews, and I do not wish to stop there. So if any of you still follow this story, you will be pleased to know that I plan to continue the arcs.

Now, _where the hell were we? _

**IN THE SOUTH **

**ORRIN **and his armies hone in on the city of Feinster. After a failed charge of the trenches, Orrin finds him face to face with Avela and his fearsome dragon. Thankfully, Elva and Angela intervene, separating the ancient pair. Orrin, armed only with his sword, faces off with Abosolearet (Avela's dragon) with Elva. Elva showcased the power to summon ancient Elven spirits, which may turn the tide of the battle.. if they do not drain her of her energy first.

**IN THE EAST **

The battle of the Ashen Hills rages as Eragon is forced to protect the adjacent territories of Du WeldenVarden. Separated from Arya, Saphira, and many of his other allies, he defeats half-hearted advances by the Sealed Elves, while the Ra'zac watch from the skies. Dissatisfied with his position and sensing treachery, he yearns for a way to reach the front-lines . . . .

Lorgainne recuperates with a tired Katrina, after their long trek from Gil'ead, the last Varden hold in the North. Feeling safe in the Elven capital, he allows himself some respite- until the sky shatters open. Enemies pour from the breach, demonic beings with red eyes and wicked swords. Laen Elves begin their battle in the streets, as the one true enemy stands upon the clouds above. His name is Gohlobor, god of darkness. Lorgainne feels that the birth of Roran's child may have some link with this demonic deity . . . .

**IN THE WEST **

The Forsworn prepare themselves for true battle. With all of their dragons turned into partial Eldeena, they feel that nothing can stop them. Caomhim (Formally Brom) has been turned by Arya's wicked sister, Alauinel, further increasing their strength. Alauinel's own ambitions are as dark as her heart, wishing nothing but the destruction of all life. Leading Galbatorix on with the promise of resurrecting his love that sparked the Rider Rebellion, Alauinel secretly is the one controlling Galbatorix's Empire.

**IN THE UNKNOWN LANDS**

Orrin's father lands on the islands hidden from the eyes of men for centuries. Remy, a young beyonder boy, has turned into a powerful being after combining with the decaying skeleton of a massive dragon. With a arm that is the color of freezing snow, Remy feels a force pulling him eastward . . .

The battles grow more heated. The stakes grow higher. With all of these factions circling around one point, who will emerge the victor? Only time can tell.


	8. BRISINGR CHAPTER 7

(A/N) To Restrained Freedom- Of course I wouldn't forget those guys! And I'm glad to be back. The "other" fanfic started fundamentally wrong and didn't keep up with posts. Anyway, let's get on with this.

BRISINGR

ELVA felt a trickle of blood navigate down the curve of her frown, finally falling from her lip and onto the sandy ground below. Beside her, Orrin breathed audibly, his blonde hair dirtied and in disarray. Smoke filled their field of vision, obscuring everything in a gray haze. Black hair brushed against Elva's forehead, while purple eyes dilated in focus.

"Don't let your guard down." She spoke with pain in her voice as strength seeped from her. Orrin gave her a wary glance, sword at the ready.

"Elva . . . the spirits . . ."

The smog was rushed away by a fresh gust of wind and debris, throwing the both of them backward. Elva clambered to her feet, raising her hands as Absolearet spread his wings where he landed. Before him, Elva's summoned specters circled, bluish tones coloring their graceful and savage appearance. Armed with spears crafted from dragon-bone, they were her best bet at beating Absolearet.

_If they don't drain my life-force first. _Elva cynically thought to herself as she felt her own body breaking down in order to fuel the ancient dragonhunters.

"Your skill is a dark one, child." Absolearet cackled, smoke trailing from his nostrils as he moved his snout.

" But you would be a fool to believe that I am not aware of your spell. You are fighting two enemies now- myself, and _time." _ Absolearet dug his wings into the ground, and arched his long back as a spiked tail whipped behind him.

"Time is an even greater foe than myself. You _will_ die here."

Elva's eyes twitched, refocusing on Absolearet at the moment he pounced from the ground. Arching her fingers, she controlled her spirits as if they were puppets, sending them into the air to Absolearet. The Forsworn roared as he engaged in battle, clawing at the apparitions as they weaved and stabbed. Absolearet spun himself in a circle, flinging his tail right into the stomach of Elva's spirit. She fell to the ground, crying in agony as her spirit landed before her.

"Elva!" Orrin cried, running to her side as her eyes seemed to roll inside her head.

"He is right. We are running out of time." Elva grimaced, looking at her battered reflection from the puddle of blood underneath her gaze.

"What can we do?" Orrin inquired, and Elva was forced to smile at the sound of his voice. They were just children.

"We fight until we are dead." She said, lifting her head and then her body.

The elf spirits formed around her, and she noticed with dull horror that color was returning to their skin. They were coming back to life, at the expense of her own.

"You foolishly continue to defy me. Lie down in defeat and I will grant you a quick death." Absolearet coiled, preparing to strike like a hidden viper.

"We will not falter." Orrin shouted suddenly, pointing his blade at the dragon.

Deep rumbles emanated from Absolearet, laughter ill-sounding and wicked as it traveled to Elva's ears.

"Ah yes, Orrin Langfeld. You have done well, gathering so many people to your cause."

Elva looked towards Orrin as the boy narrowed his eyes.

"I am the true King of Alagaesia." Orrin answered.

Absolearet laughed again, drawing back his lips to reveal rows upon rows of teeth in a grotesque facsimile of a smile.

"Such confidence. But behind that weak shell of strength, and even weaker being is found. Unfit to rule, unfit to _live." _

Absolearet vanished.

"Where? Where is he?" Orrin shouted as he waved his sword about. Elva felt her vision fade, and saw one of the Elf spirits turn and _look_ at her.

"Orrin . . . I am almost dead." She gasped, weakness coming to her like a long-lost friend, welcoming her into a silent comforting embrace. She allowed herself to accept it. She didn't care about the war, about Feinster, about anything. A cool rush of water came over her, washing her free of blood and dirt. She was beautiful, a sparkling girl devoid of worry or fear.

_Death is the greatest comforter of all. _

"ELVA!" Orrin's cry woke her from her stupor. Absolearet was inches away from her, in his human form as a clawed hand prepared to strike at her. Jutting talons as long as daggers dove for her breast, destined for her heart. Elva shut her eyes, knowing that this last movement would kill her.

The spirits landed behind Absolearet, throwing their spears at his exposed back. He faltered, but continued his attack.

"You still _die!"_ he roared. Elva waited for death, but it didn't come. Instead, she felt the sun's rays on her skin lessen, saw light darken from behind closed eyelids. Dragging them open, she saw Orrin standing before her, the tips of Absolearet's claws shining from behind his back, dripping warm blood that fell onto her face like rain.

"Elva . . ." He stammered. She nodded, knowing as she controlled her spirits. They were nearly alive, and harder to maneuver as old minds slowly awakened. Absolearet watched in anger, attempting to free himself from Orrin's body. The young King grabbed Absolearet's arm, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"This is your death, Absolearet. _Brasino du kaften!" _Elva screamed with all of her might as the spirits were engulfed in flame, and charged at Absolearet. The dragon screamed as they locked their arms around him, causing his arm to fall away from his body as Orrin staggered backward. Absolearet's bellows filled the air, louder that the ding of battle around them, louder than the world itself.

"Not yet." Elva rasped, raising her hand to the heavens.

"_Trysta." _

There was only the clap of thunder, and then the snaking strike of lighting. It hit the ground in a blow that turned the sand into glass, and sent Elva's spirits back into their graves. All that stood was a charred skeleton, stuck in transition between dragon and man. Elva fell to her knees, and allowed her eyes to roll back into her head.

_Absolearet is dead. _


End file.
